Gravity and FusionFalls
by Tannhaeuser
Summary: Dipper and Mabel's summer is interrupted yet again by a paranormal occurrence. Will Gravity Falls resist the Fusion Invasion? Can a boy and a girl from rival networks find happiness? Are cross-overs really all that bad? Will a certain cartoon network bring back its best game ever now that the Pines are in it? Heck, I dunno. But I had a blast writing this.
1. Chapter 1 - Cartoon Fretwork

**Chapter**** I.**** — Cartoon Fretwork**

An ominous, venomous green suffused the early morning skies, expelling the friendly and familiar stars. The clouds coiled like rattlesnakes, poised to strike the slumbering earth below. A slimy mist swirled down from above, sickly green like the skies, but lit with sparks of lurid red fire. A thousand glowing meteors seemed ready to hurtle down to the unsuspecting town below.

So, pretty much an ordinary day for Gravity Falls.

* * *

Dipper Pines had slumbered badly. The loss of the laptop belonging to the author of his mystery journal had upset him badly, and the knowledge that at least one inter-dimensional demon had an all-seeing eye on him did not make for restful nights. And this particular night was worse: Gravity Falls' local access TV seemed to mock his failure with an all-day cartoon marathon of mystery-solving kids, all of whom seem to have mutant talking pets and rock bands playing insidiously catchy Seventies tunes—the bands, not the pets. The pets seemed to be mostly unmusical, except for the drum-playing killer whale.

And the theme-song of that last show, with the sledge-hammer repetition of the same inane lyrics over and over and over:

"Mystery Club!  
They're teens who solve mysteries!  
Mystery Club!  
Find out hidden histories!  
Mystery Club!  
You'll call them to reveal  
Secret riddles for real—  
Not like _you_. What's your deal?  
_You_ can't beat the  
MYSTERYYYY CLUUUUB!"

Ugh. What beat you was that stupid song; it was the real mystery club. You know...because you use clubs to beat people with. And they beat you over the head with the premise of the show. In the song. Anyway...

It hadn't helped that Mabel had gotten the tune stuck in her head. All night long, the murmur had come creeping across the room: "Not like you—not like you—solve mysteries—not like you..." Not like Dipper. He can't solve mysteries; he can't find out anything. He can't beat the Mystery Club. He can't even beat a prehistoric lake monster...

"Aw, Dipper, don't, like, take it so hard, man," said Mabel, adjusting her oversized glasses, "That's way too heavy, my brother."

"Aaah! Mabel!" Dipper yelped. "I thought you were—wait, why are you talking that way? And what have you got _on_?" His sister, besides the groovy shades, was sporting funky bellbottom overalls with a shooting star appliqué.

"Not everyone can be in the Mystery Club like me and Waddles."

"Yeah, Dipper baby, only super-hip and happening kids who know where it's at can solve mysteries!" grunted Waddles, his pink cheeks aglow against the contrasting background of a neon-green Afro and poncho. "How you gonna beat a triangle when you're such a square?" Oddly, the with-it pig seemed to be melting into a slimy green puddle, the glowing pink submerging, being overwhelmed by eerily shining, mamba-colored slime. A pair of beady red eyes gleamed balefully up at the boy.

"Oh, silly Waddles, that's the wrong mystery," remarked Mabel, now also glowing bright green, her eyes a flaming scarlet, her face a mouthless mask. She reached out a pair of repulsively long arms toward Dipper. "I'm gonna make you an offer you can't defuse, brother." The slimy limbs coiled around him, and then they were falling, falling, into an immeasurable blackness, as a hateful disembodied voice chanted strange, mystical words, and huge drops of green, red-eyed slime rained down on them from above.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"Dipper...?" Mabel blinked blearily at her brother from across the attic, as Dipper stood up on his bed, his heart performing an extended drum solo in his chest, panting like Grunkle Stan climbing a moderately high stepladder. She was no longer green, and had left the Seventies behind. Waddles lay curled pinkly at her feet, without even a suggestion of an Afro. "What's going on?"

"Mabel," said Dipper, "I've just had a terrible nightmare."

"What? Did you dream that Wendy rejected you again?"

"No... _No!_" Dipper shot back, annoyed. "It was about you and Waddles. You were clue-solving kids in a weird Seventies cartoon!"

"Ohmigosh, Dipper! That wasn't a nightmare," Mabel whispered, "it was a dream come true!"

"Mabel!"

"Oh, come on, Dipper! Haven't you always wanted to be in a cartoon?"

"Ugh, not one of _those_ cartoons! There are always teenagers, and the monster always turns out to some guy trying to scare everyone away, and there's always some sort of chase scene halfway through with a song over it that has, like, nothing to do with what they're doing, and they always catch the bad guy by accident when the talking dog knocks down a chandelier and it lands on him..."

"But that's exactly what makes those shows so real!"

"And then there are always those stupid special guest episodes, where the Mystery Club meets some B-list celebrity like Suzanne Somers or somebody, or they meet some lame superhero like, I dunno, that raccoon one, or the really dumb crossovers where they just meet other cartoons..."

"Are you kidding? Suzanne Somers is amazing! Her thighs are so toned."

"I'm serious, Mabel!"

"Oh, Dipper, what makes you think this dream of yours is upsetting—instead of awesome?"

"Well, for one thing, Waddles melted into a pool of goo, and you turned into a monster with glowing red eyes. Then we all fell into the Bottomless Pit, and a rain of green slime covered Gravity Falls."

"Well, that's gross. That sounds like a _Canadian_ TV show."

Dipper continued, disregarding the interruption, "I think the dream might have been prophetic. Something terrible's about to happen. Remember what Bill Cipher said about big changes coming to our world?"

"Oh, Dipper, you can't take the word of a horrifying cosmic entity bent on chaos and destruction. He was probably just yanking your chain. Besides, was Bill _in_ your dream?"

"N-no. The dream specifically said it was another mystery, one that I wouldn't be able to 'defuse.' "

"Maybe someone has planted a bomb at the Mystery Shack! Maybe it's set to go off in five minutes, and you have to keep it from blowing up! Just remember, it's always the blue wire you cut, never the red wire! DON'T CUT THE RED WIRE, DIPPER! WHY WOULD YOU CUT THE RED WIRE?"

"I'M NOT CUTTING THE RED WIRE!" Dipper slumped heavily onto the edge of his bed, glaring at his sister, waving his hands before him. "There was no red wire! There wasn't any bomb! What there were, were mysteries to solve and green slime and red-eyed monsters and us falling into a gigantic black hole and... Mabel, why are you and Waddles turning green?"

"Aaaah! I'm not turning green, Dipper—you are!"

"Aaaaah!"

"Aaaaah!"

"Aaaa—oh, wait, it's just the green light coming in through the window... Wait—why is there green light coming in through the window?"

"It's the bomb! It's about to explode! Aaaaah!"

"Mabel, for the last time, there's no bomb, and there's not going to be any explosions!"

A series of explosions followed, as the glowing green meteors mentioned at the beginning of this story began to slam into selected areas of Gravity Falls. Fragments of earth, cars, and unwary night-crawlers flew through the air. From the meteors there gushed a flood of creatures shaped like giant teardrops, composed of green ooze and red eyes and jagged teeth. Wherever these brutes passed, viscous puddles of venomous lime-colored slime lay gleaming.

At the same instant, the floor slid away beneath Dipper's and Mabel's beds, and a whirling void of inky emptiness opened beneath them, as a thin, evil voice chanted:

_"Quis Reticulationem Animationum perdidit? Vilicus Sartor, Vilicus Sartor, Vilicus Sartor!"_

"Mabel! This is it! This is my dream!"

"Diiiippeeeeer! Why couldn't you dream about hot werewolves making out with you, like normal people do? Aaaaah!"

The Pines twins fell into darkness.

* * *

This is the point at which a network such as Disney XD or the Cartoon Network would insert a commercial advertisement. Fortunately, this story is not brought to you with any such venal, and possibly illegal, intent. For that reason I shall merely take the opportunity to recommend to my readers the fine works of fan-authored stories they can find at that fan-fiction site on the net, particularly those by that clever fellow Tannhäuser. I'd also recommend that my readers patronize such fun online games as _FusionFall Heroes_ and _PinesQuest, _and that they watch the entertaining shows that inspired them. Oh, and if they like reading fan-written stories about _Cartoon Network Universe: FusionFall_, they can find a lot of inspiring ideas over at the FusionFall and FanonFall wikis. Just do an on-line search for "FanonFall."

But, of course, since this is not a network, I shall not insert any such thing.


	2. Chapter 2 - Graveyard Shifts

**Chapter II. — Graveyard Shifts**

For its 2014 "Nightoween" Halloween event, the programmers of _FusionFall_ had gone to great lengths to create a properly haunted ambiance. The leaves of the trees hung in autumnal scarlet, gold, and brown, and a nice effect sent them skittering along before the feet of players in a little _danse macabre_, as the boughs swayed back and forth in a skillfully animated breeze. Trios of brown bats and an occasional owl passed ghostlike overhead. Within the walls of the Cardboard Castle, a flaming portal to the Nightosphere had sprung up, and the demonic figure of Hunson Abadeer stood there to sell _Adventure Time _Halloween-themed merchandise.

With an astronomical scrupulousness unusual in animation and videogames, the "Nightoween" event did not feature a full moon throughout the month of October. Instead, on the first, a slender silver sickle appeared in a deep violet sky, picked out with a sprinkling of pallid stars.

"Don't gimme that art school crap, man," snapped Rigby, as his blue-jay companion had pointed out the effect to him. They were passing on a regular sweep through the Graveyard, and the nervous raccoon's wide eyes darted from side to side, expecting the white hood of a Spooka or the jagged grin of a Joke-O-Lantern to leap out of every shadow. "All it means is that everything is harder to see … and darker … and creepier … and very, very scary," he ended with a whimper, hugging himself with his Dextronium claws. "Ow!"

"Dude, quit being such a baby," said Mordecai, shouldering his scythe with a scowl, "or I'll partner up with Gumball."

"No, no, no, no, no, no! Don't leave me alone with Marceline!"

"What's wrong with Marceline? She's really cool."

"Are you crazy? She's a vampire! And she has, like, that bat head! I bet she's just waiting to eat our brains!"

"Dude, dude—be realistic. That's zombies. Not vampires. Besides, you haven't got a brain for her to eat. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Rrrrrr, _you_ haven't got a brain to eat, you dog-licker!"

"_You're_ the dog-licker!"

"No, _you_ are!"

"_You _are!"

"_You!_"

"_You!_"

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

A shower of flaming pumpkin-heads rained down upon them as they grappled. "Yeeoww!" yelped Mordecai, and Rigby screeched, "Oh, come on!" Together they mowed through the rank of mummy-like Pharoah Creeps and the ghost-faced Spookas, as the heads of the Joke-O-Lanterns exploded all around them. One of the squash-headed monsters, towering over the rest—a Jerk-O-Lantern—lurched out of the darkness, clawing.

"Yer killin' me!" shrieked Rigby, collapsing to the ground. He lay still.

"RIG-BYYYY!" Mordecai launched himself toward the yew-shaded grave on which Rigby lay outstretched. From the shadows around him a cloud of pipistrelles, the Stun attack of a Batty Bloodsucker, enveloped the unwary jay as he knelt by his friend's body.

"Dude…fading…" he muttered dully, as his eyes rolled back in his head.

* * *

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh…" moaned Mordecai, as he woke up under a black-needled cypress in a quiet corner of the graveyard. He blinked a few times, then glanced over to see Rigby seated with his legs splayed, his back propped against a sarcophagus ("F.F., 2007-2013, Gone But Not Forgotten"), and a trail of drool running down his chin. Mordecai staggered to his feet, stumbled over, and shook his raccoon friend.

"Dude… dyuuuuuude… get up. We gotta go help Gumball and Marceline."

"Aw, do I have to? I HATE dying."

Mordecai grinned, ruefully and maliciously. "Well, you oughta be used to it by now. You've died—what? About a million times? Because you suck at fighting."

"STOP TALKING!"

"You're just lucky we've got Death on our side."

"It's not Death—it's Grim."

"Dude, Grim _is_ Death."

"No, Death is Thomas's dad. Not like Thomas from the Park, I mean. Thomas from Death.''

"Man, I know which Thomas you mean—and I don't mean that Grim is 'Death,' I mean he's Death."

"I thought Death was Death."

" 'Death' _is_ Death, but Grim is Death, too."

"I thought Grim was Grim."

" 'Grim' _is_ 'Grim,' but 'Grim' is Death, too."

"IIII seeee. Then is Death Grim, too?"

"No, 'Death' is 'Death'—I mean, he's pretty grim, but he's not 'Grim.'"

"You think Grim is pretty?"

"No, I think 'Death' is pretty grim."

"You think _Death_ is pretty?'

"NO! Uggghhh, just drop it, okay?"

"Whatever," Rigby grumbled. "I'm not the one who has a bone for Death. … OWW!" he whined, rubbing his arm where Mordecai had punched him. "Anyway, I don't wanna die again. What if I died so much that I died from it?"

"Well, that's what I'm sayin'. Nobody can really die around here as long as De— I mean, as long as Grim is on our side."

"Yeah, well, what about _that_ guy?" asked Rigby, pointing upward to the corpse of a boy of about fifteen lying stretched out on the marble slab of the tomb he was resting against.

"AAAAUUUGGGGHHHH!" screamed Mordecai.

"AAAAUUUGGGGHHHH!" screamed Rigby.

"AAAAUUUGGGGHHHH!" screamed Mordecai and Rigby together.

* * *

"No! _No!_ Get a grip, Rigby." Mordecai leaned against the trunk of the dark cypress and forced himself to be calm. "We need to figure out who this guy is, and why he's wasn't resurrected, and what to do about it."

"How?"

"We'll have to examine the body."

"Dude! That's an actual dead kid you're messing with."

"Come on, man. You see dead kids flopping down all the time."

"Yeah, but…" Rigby looked up at his blue jay companion, his eyes big and dark, "…but then I know that the kids are gonna be all right. This…this is just…." He trailed off, looking away.

"I know… I know," murmured Mordecai, patting his friend's shoulder, "but this is gonna be all right, too, Rigby. We'll _make_ it all right. Okay?"

"Okay," said Rigby in a tiny voice.

"Good. Now man up, and let's take a look at this little guy."

Like the hero of Longfellow's "Excelsior!", "lifeless, but beau—" well, no, not exactly beautiful he lay, but lovable, somehow; pale as wax, with a mop of tousled brown hair and a strangely eager, intense face; his eyes, though closed, were large and rather prominent. His form was slight, with arms and legs like over-boiled linguini, miles too long for his worn T-shirt and vest and little boy shorts. He bore no banner with a strange device, but there was the emblem of a pine-tree on the baseball hat lying beneath his head.

"Okay," said Mordecai, folding his arms and pinching his chin analytically, "he's in, like, hiking clothes, and his hat has a pine tree on it. I bet he was at some kind of summer camp."

"Maybe his name is just 'Pinetree.' "

"Dude, be serious!" Mordecai rolled his eyes. "Now, it can't be Camp Kidney, because they have a uniform, and, except for the hat, these are just clothes. But I don't know of any other camps around Cartoon Network."

"Maybe he's not from around Cartoon Network. In fact, maybe he's from a completely different dimension!"

"What?"

"Ye-ah—and that's why he's still dead! He never saw Grim, and Grim wasn't able to set him up for the Resurrect 'Ems!"

"That's…actually a really good idea. Rigby, you're a genius!"

"Yeeeah I am."

"Hm, hm, hm. Then all we need to do is get him to the nearest Resurrect 'Em, and he'll be all right!"

Just then a shaft of light pierced the darkness, flickered, and was gone. A small blue cat sat blinking in its place. "What just happened?" he inquired, plaintively.

"You just got totally keeeyulled," jeered Rigby.

"Graveworm?" asked Mordecai., sympathetically. Gumball nodded.

"You know it. Hey, who's that guy?"

"Man, I **hate** that thing."

"So you killed him?!"

"No, Graveworm."

"Graveworm killed him? Why is he still dead? And what's with those little shorts?"

"No, I _hate_ Graveworm."

"Because Graveworm killed him?"

"We don't know what killed him."

"What's with the shorts?"

"We think he's from another dimension."

"That's why he wasn't raised. Grim never hooked him up with the Resurrect 'Ems."

"Yeah, but what's with the shorts?"

"We need to get him to a Resurrect 'Em right away."

"We think we can still save him."

"Okay…but what's with the shorts?"

"Forget the shorts!"

"Dude…I wish I could. But some things," continued Gumball, sententiously, "just can't be unseen."

A tremendous explosion of green light on the other side of the Graveyard interrupted this idiotic conversation, and one thing that _could_ be Unseen manifested itself around them in the form of ghoulish, girlish laughter.

"Mwa-ha-ha-ha! Mwa-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!"

"Marceline?" quavered Gumball.

"Score!" replied the cool feminine voice, and a shower of electric sparks rained down from the Vampire Axe that showed itself in midair. "Time to order a new batch of Graveworms, boys." The shadows that hovered over them seemed to bind themselves together into outstretched wings—and suddenly there was only a deathly pale girl with long black hair, lovingly fondling her axe, hovering some three feet off the ground. "You know, fighting all those monsters _by myself_ has worked up an enormous appetite in me. RIGBY," she roared, her face altering to a hideous fang-snouted monstrosity, "GIVE ME YOUR BRAAAAAIN!"

"AAAAUUUUGGGHHHH!"

"Relax, man!" Marceline expostulated, laughing and returning to her normal appearance. "I drink red; I don't eat brown raccoon—or blue jay—or blue cat. That's disgusting. Now, if one of you was a red panda, you might be in trouble." She grinned, showing a mouthful of very sharp white teeth, and strummed a savory riff on her bass.

"Marceline… Marceline…" Mordecai broke in. "Listen, listen. We found this kid here, and he's dead. He didn't resurrect like everyone else. But we think if we got him to a Resurrect 'Em, it could fix him up."

"Wha-at? That's weird." The Vampire Queen tilted her head quizzically, gazing at the boy's all-too lifeless body. "Lemme try something." Suddenly, her hand shot skyward; jagged tines of lightning crackled above and around them. The corpse jerked upward, and clambered down like some large, uncoordinated insect from off the marble tomb-top. It plopped feet first onto the ground, its large head lolling horribly, and began shambling marionette-wise toward them, elbows up and hands dangling down, its sneakers making little furrows in the dank cemetery soil.

Gumball, Mordecai, and Rigby stood staring, with eyes as round and wide as six full moons.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Rigby's screech lingered behind him, as the grim iron gate of Eternal Meadows clanged behind him. He was a good three quarters of the way to Genius Grove by the time the sound faded.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Gumball commented, "That is soooooooooo coooooooooooool."

"Yeah, Marceline; that's awesome!" assented Mordecai, "Now you can just walk him to the nearest Resurrect 'Em."

"No, guys—I don't think that'll work in this case. I think he's gonna have to go straight to Grim."

"What? But isn't he on vacation?" protested Gumball, "There's no way you can walk a dead body all the way to Orchid Bay from here."

Mordecai nodded. "I think he's right, Marceline. I mean, I know you can control the undead Fusion Monsters in Eternal Vistas, but there are all those Shocktanglers and Asphalt Thieves and things in between, not to mention the Jetskills and Tentakillers when you get there. They'll tear this poor guy to pieces before he gets halfway—that noodle-body is way too flimsy-looking to stand up to Downtown."

"Calm down, blue boys," Marceline retorted, as her body contorted and swelled again into a monstrous form, resembling more a gigantic death's-head moth than a bat this time. "I'm not going to walk him there. _You _guys can walk. Just in case you didn't remember, some of us can fly." Gathering the now-slumping body in her two lower pairs of appendages, she whirled aloft into the violet sky on her scaly wings. "So long, suckas!"

"Bye, Marceline!" and "So long, Marceline!" shouted the pair to the rising Vampire Moth; Mordecai added, "Let us know how everything turns out!" and Gumball added, "Yeah, especially why he's wearing those shorts!" They watched the winged monstrosity sail over the swaying cypresses and yews, and up, up, up over the mountain ridge that divided the Graveyard from Downtown.

"Well, that's that." Mordecai turned to Gumball, and grinned like one that has set himself a task, and successfully shoved it off onto someone else. "Whaddya say we go find Rigby?"

"Ohhh-kay," said Gumball, doubtfully, as they sauntered down the path toward the iron gate, "but I gotta admit to you, Mordecai—Rigby kinda creeps me out."

"What? _Rigby_ does? Why?"

"Because he doesn't wear any clothes! It's not natural for someone to walk around naked all the time."

"Hm, hm. Well, I don't wear any clothes either. Do I creep you out?"

"Naw, of course not. But you're a _bird_. It would just be silly to expect a bird to wear clothes."

"Yeeeeeeeah it would!" agreed Mordecai, and the pair passed down the way to Genius Grove, roaring with laughter at the rampant absurdity of nudist raccoons.


	3. Chapter 3 - On A Ship To A Void

**Chapter III.**

**On A Ship To A Void**

Mabel found herself spilling down a long, grooved funnel of primal matter, as if the Universal Soul were draining its universal bathtub. The swirling vortex was of an interstellar blackness, yet shimmering with rainbow sparkles, not unlike that of an excessive helping of Smile-Dip. Mabel tried several times to obtain a grip on the funnel's edge with her grappling-hook (which she had conveniently grabbed on first feeling herself slipping into nothingness), but it was no more solid than a fog, a phantom, or one of Grunkle Stan's product guarantees. Occasionally, one of the globby alien tear-drops (re-read Chapter I) leaped toward her out of the folds of the interdimensional cyclone, gibbering and threatening, but she handily splattered it with a well-aimed shot of her hook-gun. She had reduced some hundred of the alien spawns to splash-marks, when she landed on her feet with a breathless "Whhhmpf!" Her surroundings had suddenly assumed solidity. The sky around her had a dark red glow, veined like marble, and the ground beneath her was black and volcanic.

Not half so volcanic, however, as her aroused passions. Standing before her, at the entrance to some sort of high tech military installation, was yet another of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. He was a teen of perhaps some sixteen summers, lithe as a mink and with hair every bit as thick and glistening. He greeted the kids passing into the camp with a sidelong grin, a cocky but friendly manner, and a voice as warm and brown as a cello. Cherubs sang Weber's "_Kommt ein schlanker Bursch_'," and little green hearts (color-coordinated with his letterman sweater) flitted in the air around him. She lifted her fingers, phone-like, to her ear.

"Heart to brain… heart to brain… prepare for action. That is all."

* * *

From behind her, a stream of kids kept appearing out of nothing. They were all in dull gray uniforms. Each stopped by the boy, before proceeding into the camp. There was a little knot of teen boys and girls around him, each seeking to catch his attention. The competition… she would mow them down…

"Welcome to Basic Training," she heard him say—a bit mechanically, as if it were a preprogrammed speech. "All new recruits need to learn some basics. First thing's first. Go find Demongo and learn about the Resurrect 'Ems."

"De-MON-go?" said a red-haired girl with freckles—rather a pretty girl—Mabel hated her instantly, "I thought Grim was supposed to be in charge of the Resurrect 'Ems."

Mabel pushed her way to the front of the group. "Girlfriend," she snapped, one hand on her hip and one extended, "ain't no-one got time for all your questions! You better check that attitude, 'less you wanna see some o' my mad-itude! Now just you step your carrot-topped butt on over to Dermando— "

The red-haired girl (and several others) blanched and stepped back, wide-eyed. "D-demongo," she stammered.

"No," Mabel shot back, "YOU-gonn'-go—you gonn' go right now! And that goes for the rest of you slugs, too!' she said, raking the group with laser eyes. "Go on! Get moving—before Mabel has to open up a can of Whup-Butt on you!" The whole group scurried off like a group of plovers avoiding a crashing wave.

Mabel pivoted toward the now-staring boy in green, with a smile like a sunrise with double rainbows bursting through a storm-cloud. "So, hi, I'm Mabel," she warbled, "Tell me all about yourself—like what kind of books and music and TV you like, your turn-ons and turn-offs, whether you're seeing anyone steady, what you think about relationships with younger and adorable girls… I'm twelve," she continued without a breath, "I just got sucked into a vortex from what I'm pretty sure was another dimension, and I'm spending the summer with my Grunkle Stan, and I have a brother and a pig, and as you can see I'm _delightful_. But enough about me… what's your name, and are you interested in long-term relationships and how many kids would you like to have?"

"I'm—uh—Ben… Ben Tennyson," ventured that young man, inching backward slowly.

" 'Ben Tennyson!' " Mabel cried, "It's like poetry. 'Bennnn…Tennnn-y-son.' It'd be even better if you shortened the last name, and just said 'Ben Ten'—because it would rhyme! See? 'Ben Ten…Ben Ten… Ben Te– ' "

"Uh, yeah—that's what people do call me?" Ben prompted, annoyed. "Because I'm kind of a well-known hero? And I change into ten different aliens…?—That is, I used to, but now…"

"But now you've lost your powers! Ohmigosh, that's so sad! And that's why they've stuck you out here in this prison colony for no-longer-useful-though-still-hot-ex-heroes!" Her eyes filled with tears.

"NO!" Ben exploded. "No, I'm here, because I'm like the most important person in the Rebellion against Fuse! I'm in charge of training new recruits here in the Null Void. Wasn't that all in your orientation packet when you signed up for the war? And where's your uniform?"

"Signed up for the war? Uniform? You talkin' cray-cray, hero-man! Didn't I just say I'm only twelve?"

"Twelve?!" Ben stared at her. "No way! You're way too—wait!" he caught himself, "Did you just say you're from another dimension?"

"A way cooler and _prettier_ dimension."

"Whoa…that's gotta be it. Listen, uh, Mabel," he continued, seriously. "I don't know how you got here, but you've got to leave right away. This dimension you've landed in—it's under attack by an alien overlord called 'Fuse.' He's not only the leader of the Fusion aliens—he actually is part of Planet Fuse, and his aim is to absorb Cartoon Network, and _every other world_ he can find!"

"Oh, no! Those green globby things!"

"The Fusion Spawns? You've seen them?"

"They came out of the meteorites that hit Gravity Falls!"

"Gravity Falls?"

"That's where I'm spending the summer—where my Grunkle Stan lives! My brother and I were woken up by this green glow, and these things began slamming into the ground—"

"The Terrafusers—they're what Fuse uses to spread Fusion matter and monsters…"

Mabel stared at Ben, open-mouthed and horrified.

"Oh, my gosh—Dipper's dream was right! This is _terrible!_ Grunkle Stan and Waddles and Soos and all my friends could be being eaten by aliens—and who knows if they would stop there! They could eat my Mom and Dad and the whole world! And now I've lost Dipper, and I don't even know where I am, and I don't know how to get back, and I don't know what to do if I did, and I've got to do something!" She burst into tears. Ben hugged her silently a few moments as she sobbed. He tried to think.

"Listen, Mabel," he began, coaxingly, after her violent fit had somewhat lessened, "maybe it's not so bad. Other planets have defeated Fuse before. Maybe your people have access to advanced technology…"

"No… we don't have spaceships or jet-packs or death-rays or _anything_…"

"…or maybe some powerful magic—that's beaten Fuse. He can't understand how it works.."

"Oh, yes, that's it!" Mabel glowed. "The journals! My brother Dipper has a journal that's full of magic spells and junk! He'll find a way to beat these alien barf bags! Dipper and I eat slimy monsters for lunch! I mean figuratively, of course—because eating them literally would be really gross."

"That's great!" Ben cried. "Then maybe, when you're done, you can share some of your secrets with us, and help Cartoon Network get rid of Fuse, too!"

"Cartoon Network? Am I in a cartoon now?"

"Well, only as much as you ever were," Ben grinned. "That's just the _name_ of this dimension. I wouldn't read much more into it."

"That must be what Dipper's dream meant! He dreamed that we would be part of a cartoon and defuse a mystery! It must have meant we'd come to Cartoon Network to beat Lord Fuse!"

"That's awesome, Mabel. You and your brother could help to save two dimensions. Where is Dipper? Did he come with you?"

"I—I don't know! I'm not even sure how we got here. There was this voice chanting—then the vortex—we both fell in, I know—but we got separated, and I don't know where Dipper is now."

"And you say you don't know how to get back?" Mabel shook her head. Ben considered, then continued, "I think that as long as you're stuck in this dimension, the best thing you can do is to take the training course, and learn how to defend yourself against the Fusion monsters. We have the Grim Reaper himself on our side, so it'll possible for you to cheat death as long as you're with us. You're actually kind of lucky to have ended up here—you'll be meeting some of Cartoon Network's greatest heroes."

"Oh, Ben—as if I hadn't already met the greatest when I met you."

Ben Tennyson flushed with pleasure, flattered despite himself. He took Mabel's hand, and, looking into her eyes, said with his most engaging smile, "No, Mabel—the hero is _you_." He straightened up, and pointed to a rocky formation in the middle distance. "That's the Resurrect 'Em up on the top of that hill. Normally, Grim would be there, but he's taking a rest in Orchid Bay right now, so Demongo the Soul Collector is running the show for him right now. Jump up and talk to him to learn more about it."

"Demongo? Is he a gorilla?"

"N-no. Demongo's a demon—but you don't have to worry. He likes to talk big, but he's really kind of wimpy."

"Oh, I'm not worried. Dipper and I eat demons for breakfast!"

"Figuratively, along with the monsters?"

"Figuratively," smiled Mabel, with a smile, a shrug, and an eye-roll, "but the monsters were for lunch!"

* * *

Hovering about three feet above the rock outcropping was a personage like some kind of vampiric Harlequin, its long, slender figure completely clad in a close-fitting black body-suit, a voluminous crimson-lined cape floating wing-like from his shoulders.—His head was like a black sconce with a fanged, mask-like face cut in it; blue fire within streamed up to form the tossing tendrils of his hair.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! What do you wish of … Demongo—teeeenajahhhh?"

"Teenager?" Mabel frowned. "I'm only twelve—so, technically, I'm not a teenager."

"Ahahahahahahahaaaa! Yes—in your own world, you WERE twelve … but in this … dimension … you ARE a … teeenajahhhhh! Hahahahahahahah!"

"You are such a happy person!" exclaimed Mabel, her eyes traveling up and down the slim form of the Soul Collector, "And you have such a pretty laugh." She sighed. The little hearts in the air were now tongues of blue flame, and the cherubs were singing Puccini's "_Un bel dì_", as she drew close to the cackling demon. "So, what is your policy on romances with mortal girls who are old enough to date now?"

"Hahahahahaha—wait, _what?!_"

"Oh, I know it's hard on Ben—but I'll let him down easy, I promise. I'll even help him to find some other girl—maybe that one red-head."

"Eheheheheheheh," tittered Demongo, nervously, "you are…uh…joking—teeenajahhhh. Eheh…heh…heh…" Demongo waved a tapering, quivering hand at her. Mabel glowed, engulfed in blue incandescence. ("Heh-heh, it tickles," she said.) "Theyah! You are prepayahd for the Resurrect 'Ems, teeen…ajahhhhh! You may now …go!"

"Oh, Demongo—why not face it like the two adults we both are now?" Mabel's eyes glistened, as she whispered. "You've collected _my_ soul."

"No! Nooooooooo! … Aku! My Mastahhhhh!," Demongo shrieked, shrinking back as Mabel took his gracile arm in hers, "Take me back to the Pit of Hate! Now! I … beg of you!" The Soul Collector vanished in a burst of smoke and blue fire.

Mabel sighed. "I suppose it was for the best. I could never have really loved someone who called someone else his 'Master' … and who had flames for hair … and a mask for a face. Poor Demongo!"

* * *

The rest of Mabel's training proceeded without any very remarkable incident.—Ben had wanted to equip her with the "Lightning Gun" that was the perquisite of all new recruits, but Mabel had thanked him prettily and chosen to depend instead on her own trusty Grappling Hook gun, taking down some hundreds of Fusion Spawn in very short order. Ben had explained the rewards system briefly, and sent her on to face Fusion Finn, whom she defeated handily enough, though imperiled for a few moments by a cloud of gooey green hearts and cherubs singing "Poor wandering one" from _The Pirates of Penzance_, and thus gained the Finn Nano (which she spent some time cuddling and poking in the stomach).—She next was warped to The Petting Zoo by Rex Salazar (this time the cherubs chose _Carmen_'s Habanera), where she massacred numbers of Jumbo Spawns, Cyber Stingers, Timber Wreckers, and Stalking Arachnids with no great difficulty, and met both Finn (Gershwin's "Summertime") and Lance (I think it was "_Sakura, Sakura_").—Finally, having gained her Rex and Alien X Nanos, and left (ahem!) a trail of broken hearts behind her, Mabel was dispatched by Computress to Mount Neverest, where, breathless and happy, we shall rejoin her at such time (if any) that our story resumes.

* * *

As ever, the author wishes to express his appreciation to Cartoon Network and Disney, for letting him play around with their intellectual property without reducing him to even greater penury by dint of litigation, and to this site for hosting his insanity.—On the other hand, he still wants to give Cartoon Network a boot in the rump for having removed _FusionFall_ from their website. Not that he ever would, but he WANTS to.


	4. Chapter 4 - Do The Monkey With Me

**Chapter IV.**

**Do The Monkey With Me**

A dancing diadem of milky white light crowned Mount Neverest and lent an opalescent shimmer to the silvery-gray marble of its vaulted pavilion. Its dome echoed sidelong the pale curve of the waxen crescent in the plum-colored skies above; and stars glittered white, as if cut out in frosty patterns on the purple glass of some gigantic snow-globe. Wandering cloudlets, pearly above and deep violet beneath, wove a lace of silver mist in and out around the feet of the heroes who stood on the uplifted height to greet the young warriors come to join the fight against Fuse.

Ominously, in the far, far distance, a smudge of dirty green hung on the horizon.

* * *

"It is too cold to be standing on this mountain without any means of warmth," chattered the monkey in the turban-like helmet, hopping from foot to foot, and rubbing his long hairy arms, "by which I mean to say, that the top of a mountain is a cold environment, causing those who remain on such an eminence to become chilly, since the temperature will be of a low rather than a high condition, because higher altitudes paradoxically are accompanied by lower rather than by higher temperatures—"

"But, Master Mojo," asked the boy with the brown-black hair and the black-and-purple armor, "don't you actually live on top of a mountain?"

"Foolish minion," snapped Mojo Jojo, "you have forgotten, or perhaps never knew, in which case you did not have the opportunity to have forgotten before you spoke, that my superior genius had the foresight to choose a mountain that is also a volcano, which is a mountain which although high is nevertheless heated from within by molten lava, unlike this mountain, which is not a volcano, and has no lava to heat it and is therefore still subject to the chilliness which—"

"But, Master," interjected the boy, "if you're cold, why aren't you wearing your boots?"

"Siiiiileeeence!" Mojo roared, shaking his fist, "It is not the place of minions to question any activity or course of action upon which their master has acted! On the contrary, it is the place of those who call themselves minions to acquiesce, or rather to accept without question or inquiry of any kind, those decisions upon which I have determined to decide! For when I have made a decision, it is decisive, final, and absolute! It is not to be disputed, disagreed upon, or argued with, because minions are expected to obey, to submit, and to be subservient, which is not what they are doing when they question and do not instantly accede to my decided-upon decisions..." (Throughout this rant, the dark-haired boy continued to mutter to himself, with his white teeth gritted and his dark gray eyes squeezed tightly shut, "He gives awesome armor... he gives awesome armor... he gives awesome armor... ")

* * *

Over on the gangway where a number of Cartoon Network notables were gathering, a gray-haired man, clad incongruously in a Hawaiian shirt, cast a glance over to the infuriated monkey's station and remarked, "Is Mojo complaining about the temperature again? He complains about the cold worse than HIM does — and half the time he doesn't even show up for Graduation."

"If instead of being heated to a temperature of a mere 23.8889° Celsius by inferior DexLabs technology, this facility was climate-controlled by Mandark Industries™ to a proper temperature of 24.16667°, which I have scientifically determined is the best—"

"Blah, blah, blah, Man-dork—it's two billion hundred twenty degrees above the blah blah blah blahhh..."

" — _¡Ay, sì! — es muy caliente_ here on this Mount Nevernest!"

"Sweetie, you covered in fur—of course you're hot!"

"It is the honor of the warrior to bear such minor discomforts in silence."

"It's a lot colder in the frozen vacuum of space, and it's always silent."

"It's a lot colder in the frozen vacuum of Mojo's brain, and he's _never_ silent."

"I like frozen yogurt—and nachos!"

"ATTENTION, PLEASE!" announced the mechanized voice of Computress, imposing (as so often) order on the disorderly attendees of the Graduation Ceremony at Mount Neverest, "ALL CHARACTERS PLEASE ASSUME YOUR RESPECTIVE STATIONS. CANDIDATES FOR GRADUATION FROM THE FUSIONFALL ACADEMY WILL BE ARRIVING IN T-MINUS THIRTY SECONDS... TWENTY-FIVE... FIFTEEN..." As the countdown continued its crashing diminuendo, the heroes of the Cartoon Network Universe ranged themselves in their various positions around the platform that crowned the mountain. A silvery sparkle began to glitter around the entrance portal, gaining brilliance gradually to a magnesium-blaze of incandesce. The sounds of excited cries were heard. Then, in a series of lightning-like flashes, the students of the Academy spilled through, chattering, laughing, pointing, gawking at the pillars and the uplifted images of the great figures of Cartoon Network's glorious past, figures like the Green Squeaker, Super Cow, and the Infraggable Krunk.

Suddenly, a series of small explosions began to take place at the portal. Thick clouds of turquoise and magenta began to swirl on its threshold, shot through with twinkling silver and gold, and the white and swaying beams of searchlights. From out of the mist burst a girlish voice, suitably amplified.

"Ladieeeeeeeees and Gentlemeeeeeeen! Presenting, On Her First Appearance In Cartoon Network's FusionFall, The Fabulous ... _MABEL PINES!_"

Through the billows of pink and blue fog, accompanied by an ostentatious explosion of golden sparkles, erupted a girl with an aggressively fuchsia sweater (with a gaudy lime-green Fusion Spawn design of dubious taste emblazoned on it) over her gray Academy uniform. In one hand she held a microphone into which she proceeded to belt the following Eighties-power-ballad-style song:

"Where have CN's heroes gone,  
And who's resisting Fuse?  
Is there no Ben Tennyson  
To slay the slimy ooze?  
Has Rex lost his Nanites?  
Did Lance fall out with Finn,  
While their Fusions still fuss and they fight  
To make sure that Fuse will win?

"From a far dimension  
Where the TV really blows,  
In a part of Oregon  
That none of Cartoon Network knows—  
Look, who is that new girl,  
That sweatered Amazon?  
Has she come from a diff-er-ent world  
To smash the Fusion Spaw-AWWWWWN?!

"You need-a Mabel!  
You need a girl like-a Mabel  
When adventure calls!  
She's brave, and she's true,  
And a sticker gurú,  
And in mini-golf she masters the balls!

"Look out for Mabel!  
Look out! A girl like-a Mabel  
Wins in all of the brawls!  
She's brighter than you,  
And her braces are, too,  
And she came here from Gravity Falls!  
Gravity Fa-a-alls!"

She launched into an air-guitar solo of astonishing virtuosity. All around the aërial platform, everyone stared with eyes as big as Mordecai and Rigby's. Several were required to hike their chins up off of their boots. Mabel, for it was indeed she, continued:

"Up there where Planet Fusion's eatin' the moon,  
That's where my Nanos long to be-ee-ee!  
Very soon there'll be DisneyXD  
Cartoons star-ring me!

"Though my pig and my great-uncle Stan,  
Are with Wendy and Soos,  
Dipper will have a plan,  
Dipper will have a plan,  
And he'll help me beat Fuse!  
Yeah, he'll help me beat Fuse!  
He'll help me beat Fuse!  
Aaaaaaah!  
Aaaaaaah!"

"CHORUS, EVERYBODY!"

"You need-a Mabel!  
You need a girl like-a Mabel  
When you're looking for LOLZ!  
She'll save you from the stew,  
She'll Imaginize you,  
And she has a voice just like Kristen Schaal's!  
You need-a Mabel!  
You need-a Dipper and Mabel  
To knock down Fuse's walls!  
Though her bro' she outgrew,  
They're the Mystery Two,  
And together they beat bad Tri-an-galls!  
In Gravity Fa-a-alls!

"Doo-doo-doo-dooooooh!  
Doo-doo-doo-dooooooh!  
Doo-doo-doo-dooooooh!  
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

"Thank you! Thank you! I know, that _was _amazing. Now let's get down to beating Fuse! Guides, please refrain from fighting to the death over me. It's not _completely_ worth it." Mabel proceeded down the gangway toward Computress, greeting the characters along the way: "Hi, I'm from another dimension! Lookin' good, there, sailor boy! Hi! Nice cape! Hi, there! Konnichiwa! Hi! Hello!"

"Ooooh, where did that microphone come from?" Dee Dee asked, eyes shimmering.

"I'd be more interested in knowing where she was keeping the fog machine and the searchlights," muttered Grandpa Max, aghast.

"Never underestimate the capacity of a baggy sweater! Because it's a lot," explained Mabel, helpfully. She passed cheerfully on to Computress, saluted, and said, "Candidate Mabel, reporting for assignment, ma'am!"

"Welcome, Mabel, to Mount Neverest. It is good to see you again," returned Computress, graciously. She checked her DexBook "clipboard." "Now that your training is complete, you must choose a guide—"

"I choose—"

"Wait a moment, please, Mabel. The guide you choose will determine the primary quest you will pursue and the armor you will receive."

"Okay—and I choose—"

"Please, Mabel. Speak with each guide before making a decision."

"But I already know which guide I want!"

"I am sorry, Mabel. I am required to check a meeting with each guide off my roster before I can certify any candidate as a graduate, even if she knows which guide she wants already."

"Red tape from the Home Office?" winked Mabel, confidentially.

"Some department head at Grigon, I believe," admitted Computress in a low voice. "Thank you for your cooperation. You will speak first with Mojo Jojo."

"Mojo Jojo? Is he some kind of witch-doctor bear?"

"N-no. Mojo Jojo is a genetically enhanced super-genius monkey scientist."

"Aw...that was gonna be my second guess!"

"Though a villain by occupation, he shares our desire to save this world from Fuse. We must take advantage of what he, and the other villains who have rallied to our cause, can bring to the table."

"That table up there?"

"No, in this case, 'the table' is a metaphorical expression."

"So who is bringing something to _that_ table?"

"The Justice Friends are hosting a crafts fair there at 16.30 hours, if we can get all the graduates out of here by noon. Your assistance is appreciated."

"Oh, okay. Well, let me go see Mr. Monkey-Face, then. Heh. I called him 'Mr. Monkey Face.' Because he has a monkey face. That's why."

* * *

"...and that is why a minion shall never contradict what his master says, when his master has uttered the vocalizations which form his speech, because a minion is supposed to be unquestioningly obedient, which he cannot be if he questions—"

"Hiyo! I'm Mabel, you're Mojo Jojo, and I came not to choose you as a Guide!"

"Yes! Yeeees! You have properly identified me as 'Mojo Jojo,' because 'Mojo Jojo' is the proper identifier for my identity, for I am indeed 'Mojo Jojo,' and therefore 'Mojo Jojo' is the correct name to call me, and since you _did_ call me 'Mojo Jojo,' that demonstrates that you knew correctly the correct name, and correctly used it to identify me as 'Mojo Jojo,' for that is indeed who I am. And as you have correctly identified me as 'Mojo Jojo,' I assume that you have also properly identified yourself as 'Mabel,' since it is much more likely that you would identify yourself with the proper name for yourself than for you to identify another person with that person's proper name, even if that person is a person as infamous as 'Mojo Jojo,' the _GREATEST OF ALL SUPER VILLAINS!_ Fuse thinks _h_e is the greatest of all super villains, and that is where he is wrong—very wrong!—for if he were the greatest of super villains, he would not be Fuse, but Mojo Jojo, for I Mojo Jojo _am_ the greatest of super villains, and therefore Fuse cannot be, for I am not Fuse, but Mojo Jojo! Join me and together we will discover a way to beat Fuse himself! Then the world will know that the greatest super villain really is not Fuse, but MOJO JOJO! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"

"But I said _I didn't_ want you as a guide!"

"Yeees, that part you _did_ get wrong, for you said you did _not_ want me as a guide, by which you possibly meant that you wanted me as a guide but did not think yourself worthy of my incredible intellect, or possibly that you did not just want, but _needed_ me as a guide, or that in having me as a guide, you would never _want_ anything else ever again. However, it matters very little that you did say that part wrong, because the part you did say right, that you are Mabel and especially the part where you said that I am Mojo Jojo, is the important part. Now, return to Computress and complete the needless parts of your mission, where you pretend to consider my useless rivals as possible guides, and then let her know that you have decided to assist Mojo Jojo in proving that he is the world's greatest diabolical genius! Yes! YEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!" He danced from foot to foot like an acrobat on a hot plate, waving his arms maniacally from side to side.

For once, Mabel herself was reduced to appalled silence. Behind Mojo's back, however, the dark boy, with a smirk, caught her eye and winked violently. Irrepressibly, she grinned and winked back. The boy in the black-and-purple armor, assuming a solemn countenance with visible effort, addressed himself to the capering ape.

"Excuse me, Master, but your colossal intellect may be a little overpowering for a mere human. Perhaps I may be permitted to explain to Mabel the advantages of becoming your minion?"

"Yes, very well, you may do that, and in so doing, you may make up for your earlier insolence, in which you failed in your duty as a minion by questioning me, because that is not what minions are supposed to do, but rather to obey unquestioningly—'

"Yes, Master, I'll get right on it." He led Mabel behind a massive tank near Mojo's station on the platform, and began to laugh, silently but violently, until he was doubled over and tears ran down his brown cheeks. "I'm—I'm sorry—" he gasped at Mabel, "Sometimes I just have to let it out. I'm Alfonso Fearfang—I guess you could call me Mojo's number one human groupie here on Mount Neverest."

"How can you put up with it?" asked Mabel, genuinely mystified. "I mean, apart from the fact that he smells like Dipper did after Grunkle Stan made him chop a month's worth of firewood in July—he talks like a cross between Old Man McGucket and an over-heated machine-gun."

Alfonso snickered. "It _is_ kinda hard to deal with the smell. You should be here in August, when he has two or three of the Monkey Minions floating around—well, you _shouldn't_, actually. Bobby Baboon smells worse than Mojo. That's why I keep a stash of peppermints in my pocket. (Oh, here, have a couple—c'mon, it'll get the smell out of your throat!) And I do admit that having to listen to Mojo once a month at graduations is kind of like sticking your head in this tank's cannon barrel and pressing the button. Still, you can do worse than signing on with Mojo. He may be crazy, but he is kind of a crazy genius, too, and he invents some unbelievable weaponry. I had to sign up with Mojo after I saw some of the awesome armor sets he has to offer. For another thing, there's a lot less competition, since most candidates naturally want to sign on with a hero like Ben or a really nice guy like Edd; that means you can actually get promoted a lot faster."

"But isn't Mojo, like, Evil? That 'Evil' had a capital E," she hastened to make clear. "I wouldn't want to work with an Evil monkey. He might throw poo at the President or something, and blame you for it. And it'd be so hard to explain to your folks—'Mom, just because I work with a monkey super villain doesn't mean I'm trying to take over the world myself, so don't always blame _me_ when you get a call from my principal...' "

Fearfang bared his teeth in a smile—a smile about halfway between a naughty schoolboy's and a third-world dictator's—with his slim eyebrows dipping like falcon's wings over his darkly twinkling eyes. "Maybe that's the best part of all, Mabel. It's actually kind of an advantage, not always following the rules. You don't feel... tied up...the way you do with Dexter or Ben. Mojo likes...initiative."

Suddenly, Mabel laughed. "Oh, Alfonso," she chortled, "look at you trying to be a bad boy—when all it means is that you're letting a monkey hold your leash. When you say you don't wanna follow the rules, all it means is that you want to act like a big ol' jerk all the time and get away with it."

"HEY!" shouted Alfonso, red-faced. "Didn't you see the smile? _The smile _always_ works!"_

"On desperate girls, maybe—not on Mabel! And that 'awesome armor'? Yeah, it just makes you look like a dork. Seriously, white gloves and boots and a pink bowtie? 'Whoa, I'm so intimidating, I dress like a penguin at a Middle School prom.' And what are those purple shoulder things? Are they, like, pyramid power for your arms?" She wiped her eye. "I'm-a go now. Thanks for the peppermints—and the sales pitch—and the laugh. Maybe I'll see you again when you grow up some. Oh, and by the way? You probably want to take a shower soon. Some of the monkey stink seems to have rubbed off on you." And with a toss of her brown locks, Mabel returned to Computress.

* * *

"And how did you make out with Mojo Jojo?"

"Ewwwww!"

"I mean," explained Computress, patiently, "what judgment did you form of his suitableness as a Guide?"

"You know, Computress—I saw what he did with at least one of his 'minions'—and I don't think I want to give him a chance to make a monkey out of me, too. See, I said 'make a monkey out of me,' because Mojo is a—"

"Yes, yes, I see."

"And to 'make a monkey out of someone' means—"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good." Mabel smiled. "Yup. Good times."

* * *

I would like to express my thanks to _Cartoon Network_, not only for letting me use their cartoons and game as a basis for this crossover event, but for severely editing down Mojo Jojo's speeches. As my readers can see, in real life he tends to run on at length, and is largely responsible for forcing me to split my account of Mabel's graduation among several chapters—though I would really prefer to go check on poor Dipper, and to make sure that Grim actually does resurrect him. I would also like to thank Cartoon Network and Disney for allowing their various characters to appear in this work without suing my underwear off me (which would not be pleasant for anyone involved). Also Bonnie Tyler. Because, why not?


	5. Chapter 5 - Ben There Done That

**Chapter V. — Ben There Done That**

"This is perplexing," said Computress. It seemed to Mabel that she was looking darkly at her DexBook roster, though this might have been an illusion caused by a Summerweenish gloom creeping over Mount Neverest, as tendrils of clouds advanced coiling like watermelon vines over the empurpled sky. "I have detected an anomaly."

"What kind of animal? Is it a pig? Oh please, oh please, oh please let it be a pig!"

"Not an animal, Mabel—an anomaly—"

"Huh?"

"A discrepancy—"

"Whah?"

"A variation from the norm—"

"One more time?"

"Something very weird is going on."

"Well, yeah," said Mabel, wagging her head from side to side. ""I just talked to an insane monkey about fighting giant alien boogers. That's a _little_ unusual. That _is_ unusual here too, isn't it?" she added anxiously.

"Not at the moment, I am afraid," replied Computress, with a moue. "However, what is strange is that you should normally have spoken with—"

"Ben?!"

"Well, yes—with Ben." Computress held up the DexBook; a netlike ray of electric blue from her eyes scanned its surface. "I am detecting traces of a NanoCom disruption. Let me send a signal out to our various operatives, asking them to report further anom—if they have noticed anything else weird going on. Meanwhile, perhaps is just as well that you seem to be scheduled to meet with Ben next."

"YESSSSSSS!" Mabel pulled a fist-down, and danced in a circle like a happy gyroscope. "I'll be right there, Ben. You know, Computress, this particular interview might take some time...like an hour or two...or three...or even until—"

"Mabel—wait a moment." Computress tilted her head, as if listening. Slowly her face turned toward the girl; a strange liquid glistening swirling in the soft yellow glow of her eyes. "I am receiving a report from our Eternal Meadows sector. An unknown boy has been found there."

"Dipper! Thank goodness! Where is he, is he coming here? He'll be so mad—I'm so far ahead of him! He'll be all like, 'Augh, Mabel, I can't believe you didn't wait for me!' and wave his arms around like those little ducks you see in people's front yards—their wings, I mean. He's funny. You'll like him."

"He was found lying on one of the tombs. He appears...not to have been resurrected."

Mabel stared. "What?" she faltered.

"It was confirmed by Marceline that the body was completely lifeless. I'm sorry, Mabel. If this boy **is** your brother, he is dead."

"But...but...I thought people couldn't die here."

"That is only if they have been prepared for the Resurrect 'Ems by the Grim Reaper—or, as in your case, by another supernatural entity. Grim is currently unavailable, and, in any case, if the boy had gone through the preparation process, he would immediately have been sent to the Providence training academy, as you were."

"No. No, no, no, no, no! It can't be Dipper! I was just _laughing_ at him." Mabel collapsed to a crouch, her hands clenched at her mouth. "Oh please, let it not be Dipper. Oh please…oh please…"

It may be that Computress, like Beatrice in the _Commedia_, was unable to feel the pain of others—or it may be that, though she was deeply distressed by Mabel's grief, her metal body and cybernetic visage were unable to express her sympathy. It may even be that she knew that the best comfort in her power to give the girl was to provide some occupation. In any case, she continued, without any overt emotion, "I think it would be best for you to go see Ben now. And please take comfort. It is possible that this boy is not your brother—and even if he is, Grim may still be able to bring him back to life. Mordecai and Rigby think so, and Marceline has agreed to take the body to Grim for raising."

"And Mordecai and Rigby," asked Mabel, tremulously rising, "are they pretty smart?"

"They have extensive experience with the supernatural," Computress hedged. "Now, please go see Ben. Whatever happens, that is the best thing you can do now—for your brother, and for your world."

* * *

Mabel walked with leaden feet toward the station where Ben was interviewing recruits. On leaving Computress, she had turned to the right, dragging slowly around the wearisome circuit where her fellow recruits were gathering eagerly around each Guide, laughing and chattering together about their choices and chances, then rushing off in twos and threes to find adventure, bounding like basketball stars for sheer excitement. She supposed there were 'adventures' waiting for her, too—but now, without her brother to share them, they didn't seem mysterious or exciting anymore, but like tedious school projects, on the history of double-entry bookkeeping or the life cycle of the liver fluke or something, assigned by a teacher who hated you and who you hated.

Well, there was Ben. She supposed she ought to talk to him...no, not just yet. She sat down on the outer rim of the circle, gazing down at the clouds below.

* * *

"Hi. You're the girl from the other dimension, aren't you? I think I saw you when you were at the Resurrect 'Em with Demongo." The speaker was a boy in red and gold Heatblast armor, a boy with warm brown hair, and large blue eyes, and the generally pleading air of a beagle in an ad for a homeless shelter. "My name's Aiden—Aiden Emberlink. And you're Mabel, right? Do you mind if I sit down with you? I get kind of lonely up here, with no-one to talk to—I mean, no recruits. Naturally, they only want to talk to Mr. Tennyson, or Gwen, or Kevin—not that there's anything wrong with that. Only, I thought you looked kind of lonely, too."

"Actually, I was kind of trying to think about something."

"Oh, if it's about which Guide to choose, I can tell you—pick Mr. Tennyson. _I_ decided to go with Mr. Tennyson, and I'm sure it's going to be an awesome experience."

A wistfulness in his tone caught Mabel's attention. "Going to be?" she asked Aiden, who was gazing off, like a beagle straining to chase after ghosts, at the furious fungus-like clouds blotching the darkening October sky.

"Well—so far I haven't been on any real adventures." He sighed. "You see, Mr. Tennyson—well, he kind of wants to protect me, I guess. It's like he's my big brother or something—except, it's not, you know? I come from a big family—I have three brothers and two sisters—and they _always_ used to let me in on things. And _he_ always wants to do everything by himself! At first, I thought that's what being a hero was like—going off by yourself and doing things! But I felt a lot more like a hero doing stuff together with my brothers and sisters. Sometimes, I almost think I _should_ have stayed home! You know? _You know?!_" He was almost bellowing.

Mabel Pines seized Aiden's arm. He started, and gazed at her face, which shone with a fierce determination. With squared jaw and eyes like twin flamethrowers, she proclaimed: "You know what, Aiden Emberlink? I _do_ know! I ALWAYS know what the right thing to do is! And right now I know that sitting around whining isn't gonna help you or your brothers and sisters or anybody! So what you're gonna do is to march straight up to Mr. Ben Tennyson, and tell him that you're going home to see your family; and then, _if_ you come back, he's either gonna send you out on an adventure, or you're switching guides!" She hauled him, staring, to his feet.

"But—but—" he bleated.

"Goats butt, and your name isn't 'Gompers!' Now get your tail up and go!"

He stood staring for a second, with eyes, like the dog's in Andersen's story, as big as the Round Tower. Then he flung his armored arms around her ("Woof!" she said—the armor was hard) and yipped, "I wish _you_ could be my Guide!" Then he lollopped off towards Ben, caroling tunelessly, "You need-a Mabel! You need a girl like-a Mabel when Adventure calls..."

* * *

Ben Tennyson was a trifle wall-eyed by the time Mabel reached his station. She hid herself behind the legs of a statue and listened with a great deal of satisfaction, as a boy not much younger than Ben himself, with warm brown hair and large blue eyes and the general air of a beagle baying after a rabbit, stood planted in front of the hero, coming to the peroration of a long speech:

"And if you send me to go shoot Fusion Spawns in the Null Void _one more time_—yeah, you know that Creeper King in the recruitment video? The one that almost gets you? Well, I'm gonna go out and find him, and personally _shove you down his throat_. On camera, too. And then I'll go to the movies, and buy an extra big barrel of popcorn, and when that scene comes on, I'm gonna cheer!"

("Attaboy, Aiden!" Mabel whispered to herself.)

"You know, Mr. Tennyson, it's not that I don't think you're great. I actually love having you as a guide; I still think you're the best one we have. You really are my hero—probably the greatest hero Cartoon Network will ever have. But I guess you just don't understand Emberlinks—maybe it takes an Emberlink to make something out of an Emberlink. Anyway, sir, that's what I'm going to do. And _IF_ I come back—"

"_If_ you come back, Aiden," interrupted Gwen Tennyson, "I wish you would bring some of your brothers and sisters with you. It's about time we had some recruits who aren't afraid to give Mr. Way Big Head a good sock in the Egotrix!" Aiden's jaw dropped, as Gwen and Kevin whooped with laughter.

("Oh, I like your style, girl," Mabel murmured.)

Ben, with a face as red as Four-Arms', queried evenly, "Is that really how you feel, Mr. Emberlink?"

The boy stiffened. "Yes, sir. It is."

("C'mon, Ben, c'mon!" whispered Mabel, fingers crossed. "It's hero time!")

"Well, go back home then. And WHEN you come back—" Ben grinned, ruefully, rubbing the back of his head, "I said, WHEN you come back, I hope you'll consider keeping me as your Guide. I'd be honored to guide a great recruit like you. Only, maybe you _had_ better bring along some of those brothers and sisters of yours, to teach me the proper way to manage Emberlinks."

("YES!")

"Can I, sir? Would you really want us all?"

"If they want to come, I want to have them."

"Aw, thank you, sir!" yelped Aiden, pumping Ben's hand up and down in his paw, "Thank you! I promise, you won't ever regret it!" And off tore Aiden Emberlink toward the homeward portal, passing over the Rainicorn Bridge, and disappearing, singing.

And as soon as he was gone, Mabel Pines leapt from her place of concealment, threw her arms around Ben Tennyson, and yodeled, "Oh, Ben Tennyson, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU! I KNEW that you would do the right thing! Because when it really, really counts, I'm ALWAYS RIGHT!" She kissed him again and again, with all the violence of a wildly affectionate Mad Mower.

"Wow," said Gwen. "What just happened there?"

"Don't you see?" rejoiced Mabel, "Aiden wanted to do the right thing, but he needed a push! Otherwise, he wouldn't realize that the right thing he wanted was really the right thing, and the right thing he thought he really wanted wasn't really right for him!"

"Come again?"

"He thought he wanted to be a hero, but he was trying to be the wrong kind of hero! And Ben was the right kind of hero for Ben, but he was the wrong kind of hero for Aiden—and he realized he was wrong, so he ended up being right! And I was right, because I knew he would be right about being wrong!"

"Can we start over again?" groaned Kevin. "How did Aiden realize that he needed to stand up to Ben finally?"

"Just the result of my brilliant Guiding style," purred Ben, cracking his knuckles, "I knew all along that Aiden had good stuff in him. It's just that he was too afraid to show it!"

"Afraid? Of What?" crowed Kevin.

"Of me, naturally."

"Oh, come on! That kid just totally pwned you!"

"Yeah, but he wouldn't ever have dared to totally pwn me, if I hadn't shown him that a True Hero isn't afraid of anything—not even a True Hero! Man, I'm good!" He flashed a smile and a wink at his friend from another dimension. "So, what do you say, Mabel? Do you want to sign up with Team Tennyson? After all, you and I have something in common—we're both always right!"

"Oh, Ben. You're the first friend I ever made in the Cartoon Network Universe. And you're really, really hot. Of course I want you for my Guide—"

"YES!"

"But, I can't."

"WHAT? But that doesn't make any sense!"

"Don't you see? Aiden _wanted_ you for his Guide, too—but that was the wrong reason for him to have picked you. He liked you so much that he let you turn him into a groupie, not a hero. He kept trying to be an imitation Tennyson, not an original Emberlink."

"But what if Emberlink heroes aren't the kind of heroes we need?"

"Ben," said Gwen, "I thought Fuse was the one who wanted to suck everything in and make them all a part of himself. Do you really want to become Planet Ben, and make little Bens out of everyone? Do you want to look at Aiden, and Mabel, and Kevin, and Grandpa Max and me, and just see your own face staring back at you?"

"I—" Ben thought. "No. NO! That's the last thing I would ever want. I like a little variety, I guess. And too much of a good thing is too much, even when it IS me."

"Besides," said Kevin, sourly, "when everybody's Ben 10, nobody is."

"Ooooh, that's so profound!" said Mabel, admiringly.

"Got it from a movie," Kevin admitted.

"Well, okay. I'm beaten; I surrender!" said Ben, sadly. "I guess this means 'goodbye,' Mabel. Give your guide my compliments."

"Oh, Ben, why you ackin' so cray-cray?" blurted Mabel, hands on hips. "I didn't say I wouldn't pick _you_ as my Guide!"

"What?! Yes, you did; you said, 'I can't'—"

"I said I can't pick you as my Guide for the wrong reason! Honestly, don't boys ever listen? But if I find out that you would be the best Guide for me and my goals, then of course I'll pick you, you cute li'l hero, you... Ewww. I instantly regret having said that."

"Yeah, let's bury that one deep in the 'Never Mention Again' file."

"Besides, I haven't seen you, Lance, and Kevin in a wet T-shirt contest yet!"

"I have," smirked Gwen, dryly. "Keep your options open. But what **are** your goals, Mabel?"

"Well," she said, slowly, "Computress just told me that they may have found Dipper—"

"Dipper?"

"Her brother."

"Oh!"

"But—but he may need...to be resurrected."

"What?" said Ben, "You mean he's—"

"Yes. They've sent the...the body to where the Resurrection Guy is on vacation. They're not really sure it IS Dipper, but—well, who else could it be? And even if it ISN'T him, I've still got to find Dipper—wherever he is."

"Oh, Mabel—I'm so sorry."

"So you see, whichever Guide I pick has to be one that will help me find my brother—or help me help him, when I find him." She looked down at the ground, her lips trembling. The three heroes looked at one another.

Then Ben said, seriously, "Dexter."

"Whaaat?"

"Look, Mabel—I like you, just as much as you like me. You really are awesome. But it's like what Aiden was saying, if you caught that part: it's his family that made him a hero, and obviously this brother of yours had a lot to do with making you the hero you are."

"But what does that have to do with...?"

"My missions—well, they're mainly devoted to spying on Fuse and finding out what he's up to. And Mabel—well, you're a little too...noticeable...to make a good spy. Besides, you want to find Dipper—not Don Doom," said Ben with a grimace. "Dexter's missions, though, are all about finding some of our heroes that Fuse has kidnapped to make Fusions. Remember how you fought that gooey evil version of me? Yeah, that was my Fusion. And Fuse might have a special reason for wanting your brother. Remember how you told me he had a magic journal?"

"Whaaaat?" cried Gwen.

"Yup," said Mabel, nodding. "It's true."

"In that case," said Gwen, "I think Ben is right. I wish we could keep you in the Tennyson family, Mabel—but for all of our sakes, and especially your brother's, I think Dexter is your man."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah!" interrupted Kevin. "Don't forget that they may already have found this 'Dipper.' In that case, he needs to meet our resident magic expert, and that is—"

"Aku? Demongo? Hex? Him? Dracula? Hunson Abadeer?"

"Dracula?!"

"It's Gwen, Mabel."

"Huh. Suck-up."

"Who, Dracula?"

"No, Kevula. _'Ssssss sssssss sssss!'_"

"Oh, give it a rest, Ben!"

"I'd need a wooden stake for that."

"Anyway, Mabel—if they have found your brother's journal, you may still want to consider Ben as your guide—if only because of Gwen."

"Well, can't Gwen be my guide?"

Gwen turned a pretty shade of mulberry, which clashed horribly with her hair, and said, icily, "I'm sorry, Mabel. There are no women guides."

"Whaaaaaaaaat? But they made a _monkey_ a guide."

"Yeah, there are a lot of monkeys who run Cartoon Network—not a lot of women."

"Yet, Sister—yet. Just let Mabel get to work! All-Girl Guides!" They fist-bumped.

"Hey!" said Ben. "What about me?"

"You can wear a wig," said Mabel.

* * *

"Which one is Dexter?" said Mabel to Computress.

"He is the red-haired boy genius in the lab coat over there," responded Computress. "However, you are scheduled to meet next with Edd."

"But they told me that Dexter could help me find Dipper!"

"We do not know that, Mabel," Computress answered. "Besides, it was Dexter who devised the schedule in the first place. He much prefers to be the last potential Guide interviewed. If he should discover that you have disregarded his wishes—well, like many geniuses, Dexter can at times be temperamental. He might refuse to become your Guide; he might even decide that your quest to find your brother is of minimal importance. After all, as our chief scientific genius, apart from—"

"MANDARK!"

"Keep silent, Mandark! Otherwise, I shall re-station Dee Dee by Lady Rainicorn at the far edge of the platform!" Computress resumed, smoothly. "As I was saying, as our chief scientific genius, apart from—ooooohhhh—Professor Utoniummmm—what was I?—oh, yes, well, Dexter has many demands on his time. I think it would be in your best interests to adhere to his schedule."

"All right. But lemme tell you, Computress—one day, when a woman rules Cartoon Network—things are gonna be waaaaaay better, and make a lot more sense."

"If I may say so, without disrespect to my creator—Amen to that, Sister."

* * *

The author would like to apologize for certain extraneous matter that appears in this installment, and to crave the indulgence of his readers, of Cartoon Network, of Disney, and of all the creators involved if this piece does not adequately characterize their creations. For some reason, communications from the _FusionFall_ Universe have been particularly difficult to obtain lately; while the records of these events to be found in the _Gravity Falls_ universe seem, inexplicably, to be in some barely decipherable code. _Tam difficilis ascensus Parnassi!_


End file.
